


the days of theft

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Darth Plagueis - James Luceno
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, First Time, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Sadism, Mildly Dubious Consent, oh and somehow this is my first time posting smut, signs she likes you more than the disembodied ideal you represent: page 7, standing in front of a monster asking it to love me (because I am monstrous), the concept of virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17861705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: for the Sith, at this point, destruction and desire of any kind are all intertwined, in a not quite satisfying way





	the days of theft

**Author's Note:**

> sorry not sorry they're ...kinda ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (n.b. most stuff is ...consented to, more or less, not perfectly, but there are some mentions of rape, either in the abstract or as something being danced around with the imperfect consent.)

blood spills over pale skin by the light of the full moons (more than one arrayed opposite the star), and Damask wonders just how far the human can be pushed.

maybe the answer (weeks later) is: _here_

_less. and less. and less._

**_undress._ **

and Lady Sidious kneels on the ice, immodestly arrayed, hair messy from the wind.

beautiful (or not?) but MINE.

humans liked to say they were civilized, especially on Naboo, but here is a glorious monstrosity, barbaric in the extreme

perfect and deadly 

"Have you, have you ever been kissed?"

and impish, critical blue eyes turn on her, dark and then gold

and there is the sight of a tongue, uncertainty, and also--also with their absurd ideography--sex, when they idolize young women

and Damask bends (Palpatine is tiny-!)

it is nothing noteworthy as kisses go, it is lips pressed together much more as if one person were pursing them (horror that would be), and Damask will not take what she cannot get

and, in a whisper, directorial, from the one of the two anyone would deem as prey "again."

parted lips, perfectly, and this is the tender kiss of novices, of the young, which should fittingly have no place here

but that is what Sidious is, young

it is not as if Plagueis is _experienced_

every want every lust strictly transmuted to the grand plan.

for the years of a Muun lifespan

so now that she has it, the future of the Sith in hand...

the wanting is...luminiferous

not that Damask has wanted.

Palpatine exhales, as close to motionless as possible for that action, warm breath in Damask's face, and she lazily ghosts fingers over the ribs

that house the lungs

that held that breath seconds ago.

what is it like, not to have every... want comingled with destruction?

Sidious stands, shins chilled from the ice Damask's feet are numbed to

curious thing, sensation, when becalmed, and by ice

just as reflexively, the human breaks the silence, scratches an itch on her neck

and Damask rests two fingers on her pale hip, some strange parody of gods approving of men

wordlessly, again, feral amber in her eyes straight at Damask's

and she clasps her thighs together 

Plagueis looks away. 

this is reflexive protection, because 

Sidious is as much a beast as she,

has learnt not to mind most things, 

the bastard who fathered her has not left much untouched

but _this_

and Sith have ...the same problem as in the storybook, they destroy whatever they touch

and not by changing it into gold.

The social concept of virginity is a burden upon those labeled as women, Damask thinks.

"If--" (you would like it to be me--

who is in every other way more intimate than any other person--

and not someone else?)

Palpatine falls back on that surface of shins and insteps again

which cannot be comfortable

but her thighs are spread, such that--

Damask extends one hand, and examines her apprentice's face for permission

a centimeter nod and still those intense, hungry eyes

the Muun's fingers fall to the clitoris

toy with the surrounding topography of flesh, 

brushing aside carrot curls

(she cannot guarantee that this will happen

the second time, that almost certainly will not be her,

but they are Sith and

excluding the potential for pleasure is not the point

we do not avoid sensation, even if we do not seek it out)

teasing the labia (all the technical names 

for something Damask would vouch though not witness to

is messy, very corporeal, never 

clean and beautiful as flowers)

and for this all she sees is a haunted, vacant look come over Sithly eyes

"I think--some would call it rape if I proceed and you did not (want, but does she ever)...agree to it"

So softly spoken she barely hears, Sidious whispers "go on."

without asking permission, she drops a kiss on the pale pink aureole of one breast

the human shifts her posture, near imperceptibly

(body and mind do not always go together

they say women married sometimes only lie back and think of god and country; that it does not matter 

whether the process is painful; only priapic opinion counts)

but gentle or firm, further touches do not change her expression

and so Damask only hopes body has responded where mind has not 

(and does that make this border on rape, then?)

slides in one finger, gently as possible

(she is not, unlike personal, and doubly personal--

exploration of the self--

experience, wet with desire or pleasure 

or anything, even--Damask thinks wryly, characteristically,

physiological response)

withdraws

Sidious is still but for breath.

there is a mere speck of blood, which might be anything

but by some standards she has stolen

(the one bit of local anatomical vocabulary she likes)

the human's corona.

When Plagueis would _crown_ her, given any druthers.

(the oxytocin makes her think: if this were anyone else

if they were normal, not--

wires crossed, everything subsumed to other schemes

_given_ thirst for blood

perhaps the finish would feel the making of a queen.)

five minutes, then five more

to recover

Plagueis strips her clothing unceremoniously off

the difference (and the anatomy is much the same)

that separates Plagueis from Palpatine the elder, the man,

is that she sits upon the ice, legs widely arrayed with one knee pointed up and says

"Perhaps you should learn."

(no. the difference, the only difference

is Sidious as subject, as agent, not object)

this is the clueless leading the hesitant.

there is no pleasure to it but Damask gasps at hot fingers and rough winter skin

and where does that definition lie?

it is the first time (because not wanting)

anyone besides herself or a doctor (because Nome did not follow through on mere suggestions)

has touched her, and so

is she as virginal as Sidious moments before?

or moreso: the human softly rakes a fingernail in an arc skirting her vulva and then lets fingers drop to the floor.

Palpatine is deriving no satisfaction from this, and yet looks over her, 

and falls to work again, emulating what was recently done to her

this is ...not desire

and Damask does not know if there is more or less pity in the option she chooses: 

relaxing into the mental abstract of sexual pleasure,

and allowing her apprentice not to ...fail

(if that is what it would be)

and yet it all seems quite foreign to the human.

After a long moment she stands, and when Plagueis is also up, wraps Damask's hands around the arch of bone in her hips

"I think..." Palpatine says lazily, in the tones of a cat "you should punish me"

it is ...suggestive.

it is not a self-sacrificing move.

"if you so wish--" in a low voice. 

Plagueis goes to the door and pulls a slender, flexible willow whip from the potted tree helping to clean the hallway air.

master methodically criss-crosses the back and shoulders and thighs presented her with mild red welts

it is pain but not injury, like hot peppers

Palpatine gasps as she is nearly done, in a breathy way that sounds almost sexual

so. the human has a thing for masochism. interesting.

upon rising (from the floor where she had been struck)

she walls off Damask, only mentally

and presses her fingers in between her legs, 

and presses again, and strokes,

opens Sith amber eyes hazy with pleasure and opens her thighs, showing off the dampness, though not with invitation.

Palpatine smiles that tragic, ironic smile that has a hold on whatever part of Damask still has a clear and plausible definition of attachment.

"That doesn't count, does it?"

and her eyes are cold, clear blue again and she walks out of the salle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter would probably be set rather later on? we'll see.


End file.
